Storm Hawks Revealed
by Green Peridot
Summary: Ficlets by yours truly about our favorite characters, the 5th being: Absence. A rocky futurefic Pirow PxA. What is more important to Aerrow? Piper, or doing what a Knight must? Are Aerrow's priorities are a little mixed up? Rating: T.
1. Starling Pt1: A Heavy Legacy

This is a possible twoshot in what will be a collection of all my Storm Hawks short ficlets. All of them are unconnected, and are therefore individually rated. I change the summary that appears on the Storm Hawks stories page to preview each newest short story. The status will stay complete even though I'm adding more because the ficlets _are _complete. I'm just adding installments as they occur. 

**Disclaimer:** Storm Hawks and all the canon characters are not mine. The plots, new items, and any OCs that appear hereafter, however, are mine.

Summary: Starling is not as cool and collected as everyone thinks, and neither has she forgotten the Interceptors. On the contrary, she can't forget them. And there is another reason her heart never ceases to hurt...

Genre(s): Angst, romance.

Rated: T

Length: Probable twoshot.

Please r&r! Reviews (even flames, sometimes!) are so lifting to the spirits. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Starling looked bleakly at the shield in her hands, freshly retrieved from Repton's wall. The purple insignia glittered mockingly at her in the light, taunting her with old memories. 

-

"_Come on, Sky Knight," dared a deep, playful voice. "Can't you keep up?"_

_A younger Starling snorted at his pathetic attempt at temerity. "Please, Kestrel. You haven't beaten me in a race once. There's a reason I passed the Knight's Trials at sixteen."_

"_Yeah- you bribed the judges!" he piped, and grinned, entirely pleased with himself for inventing such a clever response._

_Starling chuckled and shook her head._

-

Now the memories switched focus.

-

_A smoldering skimmer fell from the sky next to her. Starling shouted in agonizing dismay. No. Not Kestrel. He was too young! _

_But then a parachute bearing the purple Interceptor logo floated up from the smoke, and a defiantly grinning Kestrel gave her a thumbs up. _

_She saw Repton's three brothers swoop in, and prepared to do battle._

_But just as she facilitated the last stooge's exit from the seat of his skimmer, she saw a furious Repton cruise in on his bone wing. He hissed at Starling in rage, for he knew her to be the instigator, but she was out of his range. She saluted mockingly, and fired a purple blast at one of the security towers to rub it in his face._

_Repton cackled, ignoring this, for he had found a way to be revenged upon the upstart. He hurled his yellow energy boomerang with a powerful downwards cast._

_The loss, the utter anguish that shot through her frame was twice as horrible as the first, because it was final. This time, Kestrel would not float up on a draft, grinning mischievously. The boomerang had caught his open, unprotected back- and ripped it open. _

_She did not notice in her blind torment as the tower turned and locked onto her skimmer. She did not even notice as she went plummeting to the ground, her skimmer's wing disintegrated. Unconsciousness enveloped her in merciful blackness as she struck the ground, hard._

-

The battle through the dense foliage was all too easily conjured back up. It was fraught with fear, torment, guilt, and frustration. The pain from her dislocated shoulder and her broken wrist did not reach her fogged mind for she was terrified- terrified that for some indescribable reason, that they were _all_ gone; terrified that Repton had exercised his revenge to the fullest extent. Terrified that she was the last one.

Starling gripped her head in agony, lowering it to between her knees, rocking back and forth.

She remembered the uncertainty, but also the recognition that she had to completely know if they were truly dead, to see the wreckage.

And she'd seen it. She saw it still, for it was seared into her memory with a hot metal brand.

Tears streamed down her face. "Get a hold of yourself, Starling. Come _on," _she ordered fiercely.

These moments of desolation had become fewer and farther between in the two years since the obliteration of her team, but when they did attack they overtook her mind as dreadfully and violently as that very first time.

The loss came over her stealthily when she was alone and resting, creeping up on her consciousness just when she was at her weakest point. It said nothing at first, and she was always only subconsciously aware of its presence. Insidiously it wove its power into her brain as she tried to sleep, making not a move until its tendrils were spread throughout her psyche.

Then it struck brutally, sending her to her knees.

The memories swirled around in her head, torturing her. The guilt reared up its ugly head, and made her soul writhe.

These sessions lasted for hours, and left her shaking and weak. They were one of the reasons she refused extensive contact with others. The episodes were her problem, her responsibility, her burden. They were the price she had to pay.

And after the grief, in the aftermath of her palpitations, came the hate. The appalling, completely unacceptable desire to rend and tear Repton from limb to limb, slowly and painfully. It had taken all of her self control that day not to drag her Nunchucks through his fallen form, giving some of the agony she'd endured back onto him.

But she had stopped it. This she was eminently proud of, aware that she had channeled her hate that day into a constructive outlet, and that Aerrow had acquired the satisfaction of a job well done thanks to her. Now, she was paying for her success.

She shuddered as the images resurfaced again. She'd thought it had done. But no, not yet. It had not been long enough.

She lifted her mussed purple head. There was one who could help her. The one whose calm determination soothed her mind and made her careful façade of cool control less of a veneer.

But Aerrow was a Storm Hawk, and younger than her. It was doubtful that he ever would regard her in such a light.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, for a far different reason than before. The new ache made the twin emeralds- so similar to her love's own- to glisten and blur with grief.

Starling was caught in the past, unable to shake it off, frozen from enjoying the present, and banned from making the future she desperately wanted possible.

For she carried the legacy of the Interceptors through her skill and determination, reminding all of the fierce and loyal squadron that had lost their lives protecting the Atmos.

Starling smiled through her tears, her amethyst locks framing her pale face in a messy halo. Yes, she carried the legacy of the Interceptors. That was why she would never be a Storm Hawk, why she would never join a new squadron. She had the burden and the honor of carrying the memories of her six lost teammates, and she would carry it for the rest of her life.

But how much longer could she bear it alone?

* * *

There you have it- my second fic, first oneshot/twoshot, and my first attempt in the Storm Hawks category. 

PLEASE review- I so superbly appreciate it!


	2. Starling Pt2: Amarantine

This is continuing 'A Heavy Legacy'. It's more romance than angst this chapter, and still rated T.

Thanks SO much for all the reviews, Lace Agate, MinakoJupiter, Starly, and Malarkay! I am flattered! Starly: well, angst rarely has a point. This continuation gave it one, or so I keep telling myself.

The italicized words are excerpts from the song Amarantine, by Enya. (I don't own that either). They're not in order from the way they appear in the song. I think I placed the excerpts poorly, but you'll get the idea (hopefully!).

Enjoy!

* * *

"What's going on?" came the familiar, but unwelcome, voice of a green eyed Storm Hawk. He was standing stock still in her doorway- he'd most definitely seen her, which was extremely unfortunate. 

"Nothing!" she gasped desperately, dashing the tears from her eyes. How _could _he? He wasn't supposed to be here! What was he doing on her ship?

He strode forward, his legs long enough to devour the distance between them in three steps, and picked her up effortlessly. Starling looked up at him, shocked. This was not the fourteen year old boy full of bravado (and not a little ego) from six years ago. The three years separating them seems alarmingly insignificant when suspended in the air between two powerful arms.

"What's going on, Starling?" he reiterated the demand, his voice harsh in dismay at seeing her weak.

The defenses that kept the monster at bay during the day returned to her, and drove it out of her mind- for the time being. She now had shaky control. She looked at him evenly, and said clearly, "Nothing is wrong, Aerrow. What are you doing here?"

He looked as though she'd slapped him in the face. He set her down hurriedly and turned away. "Why won't you let me in?" he asked despondently. "I know that wasn't nothing: I'm not stupid. Can't you let me help?"

She was grateful that he was turned away from her for her knees buckled, setting her roughly on the cot. "I never said you were," she whispered nearly inaudibly.

It would be so easy to just let go, to fall into the arms she'd dreamed for years of resting in, the arms she'd had not the slightest idea were waiting for her.

No. He could not be brought into the tangle of her despair, could not be expected to help with the near-insanity that came many nights. Aerrow was young enough where he would soon forget her. Perhaps even this revelation (the news that he felt something for her other than respect) was only the calf-love of a boy nearly turned a man.

Piper, that charming, beautiful girl in his squadron, would suit him well. A bitter smile came to her lips, and jealousy flared even though she had been the one to suggest it. It was unacceptable that he would be with someone else. Only she understood Aerrow completely, knew the inner workings of his mind and accepted both the light and the dark found there. But again, she could not put him with her under her heavy yoke. Tears sprang up yet again.

_You know love may sometimes make you cry_

_So let the tears go, _

_they will flow away._

_For you know love will always let you lie_

_How far a heart can fly,_

_away._

Someday. Someday they would be together, not now. Starling laughed scornfully at the lie, and then believed it with the fervency of a desperate man.

Her new unfounded faith gave her the resolution she was searching for. "I think it is time for you to go back to your team, Aerrow."

He sucked in a painful breath, and whirled. "So that's how it is? That's how it always will be, between us?"

She said nothing, lowering her eyes to her lap, unable to finalize it.

Aerrow did not make the clichéd mistake of storming out of the room. He had always been determined, and always pursued what he wanted as long and as hard as he had in him. Nothing short of a flat negative would stop him- which he had not received.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he once again seized her by the arms, and kissed her violently.

Starling found herself melting in his fierce embrace, responding to his ardor. The inhibitions that had restrained her for so long were cast aside as she unresentfully submitted, kissing him back with all of the withheld passion from years past.

Finally she broke the kiss, and laid her head against his shoulder.

Aerrow stroked the soft purple hair tickling his jaw. He dismayed at the light tremors he felt quivering through her frame. "_Now _will you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, pushing strands out of her eyes as she raised her head to look at him. "Starling, please," he whispered urgently. "I want to help you- by the Atmos, I'm _going _to help you!"

She smiled at the belligerence in his tone. Here was her daring sky knight. "You are a Storm Hawk, Aerrow," she said softly, shaking her head. "My load is that of an Interceptor."

Aerrow sat down on the cot, and drew her into his lap. "That's what troubles you? Your team?"

She nodded mutely, her eyes shimmering with the tears that had suddenly come to the surface, ready to spill over. Angrily, she flicked them away. "Sometimes- sometimes I hear the commander's voice, echoing down the halls. He's ordering us to the bridge for a sneak attack on a Cyclonian outpost. He's excited, laughing… alive." On that word her voice cracked. She continued on in a strangled tone, "I saw Kestrel die in front of me. His scream… it haunts me when I try to sleep. I could have-"

"Stop that!" he ordered. "It wasn't your fault, and you _couldn't have_ done anything. Don't torture yourself more, Starling."

"Not two minutes and you're ordering me around," she attempted to tease, not minding at all. Then, far more seriously, she hugged him. "You don't know how long I've wanted this," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "I've been holding back for two years, Starling, because you were a distant friend and a cool ally, and never anything more than that."

"Because it is my burden, and I must bear it on my own. The honor and the price I pay for it are mine to carry…" Starling ran a hand through her hair, getting up and facing the door. She couldn't find the words to articulate what she meant, to convince him of what she knew to be true.

"Maybe I can't carry them for you, but I can prop you up," he insisted. "Don't protect me, Starling. I'm a sky knight that can take care of himself, and it's my choice as well as yours. You can't make the decision for me."

Both sets of emerald eyes suddenly cleared and saw what could be the future: leaning on each other, sharing both pain and joy, and helping her; enjoying each other's company.

_You know when you gave your love away_

_It opens your heart,_

_everything is knew._

_And you know time will always find a way_

_To let your heart believe,_

_it's true._

Aerrow leaned forward, and drew her face in to kiss her, long and sweet.

_You know when love's shining in your eyes_

_It may be the stars,_

_fallen from above_

_And you know love is with you when you rise,_

_for night and day belong_

_to love_

_Amarantine.

* * *

_

I _think_ I had them sorta in character. Oh well.

Reviews? Pretty please, with a virtual cherry on top?


	3. Radarr, and Buttercakes

Summary: Radarr is on a quest to obtain some of Piper's glorious buttercakes for his consumption, and he will go to any lengths to get them. But Piper's been too sad lately to make any, and Aerrow is pathetically inept at cooking. Radarr's bright idea leads to a tangle and a kiss... WARNING! Fluffy!

Genre(s): Um, humor/romance.

Rated: K+

Length: Oneshot

This popped into my head when dreaming of plot extensions for my multichapter fic. It wouldn't fit quite right, alas, but I liked it too much to ignore it. Also, I've been feeling kind of guilty for not giving Radarr and Junko any attention. Hope you like it! Btw, I decided to do buttercakes instead of sandcakes because those sound disgusting. :D

* * *

Radarr scuffled on the floor, his sensitive pink nose twitching as he strained to catch a trace of food in the air. He smelled peanut butter and jelly lingering in the room, but knew Junko had wiped every trace of a mess off the counter. The blue creature grunted in disgust at the Wallop. How _inconsiderate _to clean up his mess! 

He sat back on his haunches and considered his course of action. Then his hungry gaze caught sight of a casket, high on the counter. This was not just any basket. It was The Basket- the sweet smelling place where Piper kept her buttercakes- sweet, rich, caramely confections blissfully saturated with butter that melted in your mouth.

Just the thought of one made him salivate.

But alas, even if he could manage to reach the basket, it would be empty. The dark skinned girl had been even more reclusive than usual of late because of low spirits. The scent of freshly baked buttercakes had not tantalized him in months.

The other team members had not noticed, but Radarr's wise, unbiased animal eye knew her to be unhappy.

This vaguely bothered him. He did not have any special attachment to the girl, other than reverence for cooking genius; but Aerrow's happiness for the last few months had been directly dependent on Piper's.

_Humans, _he grumbled. They were too complicated. Give him a buttercake, he thought exasperatedly, and he would be in the seventh Realm of Delight. That was the proper way to live.

But, Aerrow was his best friend. No matter how unreasonable he was, Radarr had an obligation to the red-haired teen. He propped his head up on his forelimbs and began tapping his fingers on the hard floor in deep thought.

Then, a brilliant thought hopped into his head. Aerrow could get Piper to make buttercakes! That would make Piper happy, which would make Aerrow happy, which would ultimately discharge two items on Radarr's itinerary at once.

Radarr was quite satisfied with his intelligence, but rolled his eyes at the convolution of the human species as he went to find Aerrow. His feet pattered softly on the cool metal floor, and the chill from it transferred to his limbs. Stupid humans.

By the time Radarr found Aerrow he was quite cold, in a foul mood, and determined to get his buttercakes even if he would have to single handedly rescue Piper from Tower Cyclonia.

Aerrow was stretched out on his cot, a knee up and his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Without ceremony or warning, Radarr leaped onto the teen's stomach, causing him to involuntarily sit up and grunt in pain. "What was that for?" he asked crossly of his mission specialist.

Radarr chattered and jumped up and down on his stomach.

"Hey!"

Radarr looked at him pointedly, and gestured to his own stomach, which growled loudly.

"Ohh," realized Aerrow. "You're _hungry_." He swung his legs around to get off the cot, and ruffled Radarr's head. The blue fuzzball scurried up his legs and onto his shoulder.

When Aerrow went to the refrigerator, Radarr tugged on his ear and pointed to The Basket.

"Sorry buddy," said Aerrow, and showed him the bottom of the basket. It was hideously empty.

Radarr whimpered sadly, and Aerrow handed him a carrot out of the fridge. It was starting to blacken with decomposition, and there were a few flies buzzing around it.

He crossed his arms and glared at his friend. He had to be kidding- what did the idiot think he was, a rabbit? Even if he _did _eat carrots, he'd sooner eat the flies than that soggy vegetable.

"What am _I _supposed to do?" expostulated Aerrow. Radarr growled and raised an eyebrow, tapping the imaginary watch on his wrist meaningfully.

-

Three miserably failed cooking attempts later, Aerrow stood in Piper's doorway with an annoyed and flour coated Radarr standing by, tapping his foot tetchily.

"What?" asked Piper, a little brusquely, lifting her eyes from the page of the book in front of her to look impatiently at him.

Aerrow rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, though he couldn't quite say why. "Could you- would you make some of your buttercakes? Radarr's been begging me for hours, and I can't seem to make them."

Piper just stared at him for a minute. He was sure she was going to snap at him for interrupting her reading when she heaved a long-suffering sigh and got up, setting the book aside. "All right," she said.

"Sweet!" said Aerrow with relief, and started to walk off when his collar was snagged by Piper's long fingers, halting his momentum abruptly.

"But you're going to help me."

-

Twenty minutes later a wide eyed Radarr stood watching the disturbing tableau in front of him, chewing on his tail nervously.

"You're not beating it right," said Piper tightly, leaning over to try and take the bowl away from Aerrow.

"I'm beating it fine," he said defensively, his ire rising quickly as he backed out of her reach and began beating the batter faster.

"That's too fast! I'm the cook, and I'm telling you it's not right!"

"Well, I'm the team leader, and I'm telling you it _is _right!"

She gasped at his temerity. "That's it!" she announced. "We're starting over."

"No," he contradicted, "we're not. It's _fine_." He poured the mixture into a baking dish.

Piper placed a hand on its rim. "You're _not _putting that in the oven," she warned.

"Piper, that sounds like insubordination," he said lightly, grinning devilishly.

"Call it whatever you want, but you are _not _going to put that in the oven!" she snapped.

"Really?" he asked arrogantly, looking forward to a tangle, and picked it up.

Her carnelian eyes dared him to do it.

"Okay," he shrugged, and moved to open the oven.

Piper tackled him to the ground, sending the pan skidding across the floor. Radarr groaned, and covered his eyes with his ears.

"Fumble!" cried Finn, who was standing with Junko in the doorway, and cheered as Piper dashed across the room after it.

But before she could reach it, two strong hands seized her waist and spun her around into Aerrow's arms.

Her breath caught in her throat at his close range, paralyzed by the green eyes staring intently into hers. Her heart sped up until it was virtually humming when he leaned closer to her.

But then the hand at the small of her back disappeared, and she backwards onto her elbows on the floor.

A smirking Aerrow held up the pan, and turned back to walk over to the oven.

"Ooh, that was _low_," said Finn delightedly.

Piper let loose a feral snarl and jumped on Aerrow's back just as he was about to open the door, straining to reach the buttercake batter.

A violent struggle ensued. Junko and Finn watched from the doorway, jerking in sympathy, and twitching as though they felt each blow. But, they were grinning.

Junko then felt a twinge of guilt after another pained yelp from Aerrow. "Shouldn't we stop them?" he asked hesitantly.

"Nah," shrugged Finn. Then, after a particularly resounding smack, "Ouch! That must have hurt him. Besides, this is good for them."

"But I thought they liked each other," muttered Junko, scratching his head.

"They do," assured Finn, wincing at another blow and tossing a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

"So, they like each other," frowned Junko, ticking the points off on his hands, "but they're trying to kill each other?"

"Ex_actly_," grinned Finn. "Typical teenage lovesickness. Isn't it great?"

Aerrow and Piper were on the ground in a tangle even Twister couldn't have caused, both straining to either get the pan or keep it. Aerrow was doing the latter, having recently rescued the batter from being poured down the garbage disposal.

The oven door was open, pouring heat, and only a few feet from his outstretched arm. Piper, sensing his idea, growled and smacked him, trying to prevent him from moving. "Give it up, Sky Knight," she panted.

"Why would I do that," he said equally breathlessly; and suddenly flipped over so _she _was the one on the bottom, "when I'm winning?" And with that he tossed the pan into the opening, closing the door behind it.

"You put up a good fight," he acknowledged, grinning down at his beautiful opponent with his eyebrows raised in cocky victory. Then he was suddenly very aware of just how beautiful she was. He'd definitely noticed before, but during their little duel he'd forgotten about it. He flushed, and his traitorous fingers strayed to the sliver of dark chocolate skin peeking from between the fabric of her capris and shirt.

He realized abruptly that she was staring at him just the way he was looking at her, and abandoned his inhibitions. He kissed her roughly on the mouth, feeling like shouting in triumph when her slim frame relaxed to press against his own and her arms curled around his neck.

Finn's eyes widened and he began shoveling popcorn more rapidly into his mouth.

Junko hit is head in confusion. "I'm so con_fused_," he moaned, and walked away shaking his (sore) head.

"Finn," warned Aerrow, pausing long enough to exchange a meaningful look with his wingman.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and set down the popcorn.

A few seconds later: "Finn," threatened Aerrow, and the blonde grumbled crossly while walking away.

Piper laughed up at her Sky Knight, her anger as well as the memory of the buttercakes evaporating as she kissed him again, running her hands through his thick red hair.

Radarr was extremely glad that they had not killed each other after all, but was more confused than Junko. He uttered an intolerant grumble, and went over to stand in front of the oven and the kissing pair.

He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Aerrow looked up at him, and saw his co-pilot pointing to the oven with a wild look in his large eyes.

"Oh, right," said Aerrow, pausing long enough to open the door and remove the finished buttercake. Then he chuckled and traced his girlfriend's jawline lovingly. Piper smiled up at him.

Radarr, biting into his sweet, gooey reward, thought benevolently that perhaps humans weren't so bad after all.

* * *

There you have it, enough fluff to fill a mattress. Review?? 


	4. Opportunity Lost

Summary: An opportunity doesn't last forever. It didn't for Piper. WARNING: character death, and it doesn't have a happy ending. And the end really is the end of this oneshot. (Sorry.)

Genre(s): Angst, tradgedy, a little one-sided romance I guess.

Rated: T

Length: Oneshot.

This is dark for me, but the inspiration for it was sparked by two very sad stories: one, a fiction called 'The True Color of Night' by darkmistress in the shadows, and two, a published book "Children of the River" by Linda Crew. Pleasant reading!

* * *

The moments passed in slow motion to Piper. The skimmer they sat on was spiraling out of control, plunging faster and faster towards the earth, but it seemed like time had slowed to allow her to grasp the dire nature of what was occurring. Desperately she was tugging at his leg, her muscles straining to the point of injury, but there was no getting around it. His ankle was wedged tightly between the metal parts of the skimmer, and would not budge. 

When he looked at her, she saw the resolve in his eyes. An ice cold hand gripped her heart like a vise. "No!" she shouted over the sputtering coughs of the engine beneath them. "I'm staying with you!"

She caught a glimpse of his sad, determined smile as he thrust her off of the skimmer, and shouted in agonized protest. His words were barely audible to her as he drew away.

"I can't let you die with me."

Then her parachute unfurled and she was jerked roughly as the air caught in it. The calm and tranquil breeze swirling around her was at acute variance with the violent storm in her mind.

Thirty seconds later the terrible sound of metal crunching as it hit the ground at full speed echoed up to her, amplified by the cruel walls of the deep canyon so that the thud crashed repeatedly on her tormented ears. A scream of tortured anguish overrode the sound of the collision, and Piper did not realize it was her own because she was only cognizant of the knife of terror in her breast. _He always comes out all right, even out of the most dangerous situations unscathed. _He could not be gone.

Her feet struck the unforgiving rock of the canyon floor, and she slumped to the ground because her knees were unable to support her. The parachute fluttered like a sad but complacent bird behind her, settling slowly to the ground.

Harsh gasps cut through her chest. Piper forced herself to rise, dragging the parachute along with her, her legs leaden with the weight of her fear.

A flash of lightning illuminated both the ground and the awful truth, casting the grisly scene into sharp and unwelcome relief.

A moan escaped from her lips, and she sank to her knees beside his broken body, gathering him in her arms.

The blue eye of heaven began to cry then, like a woman bereaved of all she loves. Her fresh tears mixed with the salty ones streaming down Piper's cheeks, and together they saturated the ground with sorrow. Thunder ripped across the terra like the low, horrified shudders quaking Piper at her core.

For his chest was still, and his heart was silent. His eyes were closed, his body stiff, and his ears unhearing.

Those ears would never be able to hear the words floating around in Piper's head, the words that were now beginning to haunt her because they died before they could be born.

Her throat was constricted. It was too late. Those phrases that had been at the tip of her tongue every time he grinned at her with mischief dancing in his expressive and kind eyes, which had always been shunted aside, now plagued her vindictively.

They came tumbling out now in a whisper, hovering around them. "You're wonderful. I admire you. I can't believe how good you are at everything you do. You brighten every day of my life that you touch. You can make me smile even when things are going completely wrong."

She looked upwards, unheeding of the drops of rain splashing into her eyes. Here was the hardest one to say, the most difficult and daunting one to speak aloud. But the words rolled off easily on her tongue, because her chance had passed.

"I love you."

An earsplitting clap of thunder did not even make her twitch. She stroked his hair, and ran her fingers over his closed eyelids.

_Why couldn't you take me with you? _Piper pushed the thought aside, because it implied the unacceptable- that she would never hear his laugh again, never feel his gentle touch, that the strong arms she'd dreamed of being enveloped in were turning cold and stiff.

She abandoned his broken corpse then, shrugging the parachute off of her, and ran as far and fast as she could to outrun the cold fact. Blindly she fled, her legs carrying her far from that barren canyon that was red and black with death and blood.

Broad leaves stung her face like spiteful hands, but she was grateful for them because they distracted her from the guilty anguish burning away at her stomach. She fell down many times, her face coated with mud. There were two clean channels on her face where her tears had washed away the dirt, but nothing could wash the regret from her heart.

Finally her body could take no more. Although she felt nothing, only mildly aware of her surroundings, her reserves of energy were completely spent and her limbs did not obey her command to continue. The thunder pulsed with the uneven beat of her broken heart.

_No._

It was not true. Her mind searched wildly for an explanation. This was merely a hallucination, perhaps a nightmare. Maybe Master Cyclonis was toying with her mind somehow, trying to break her spirit.

Of _course_ he was not really gone. She would come back to the _Condor _and he would greet her with a smile along with the rest of the team. Stork would be there too, and would be paranoid around her for weeks because he was afraid she contracted a loathsome disease from her captors.

Then she would tell him. It would _not _be too late. She would say it right away, and all would be well.

Piper closed her eyes, and believed the illusion with all her heart.

-One Year Later-

Piper stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the abyss where he'd died. The time had filed away the raw edges of her grief, but it had also slowly eaten away at the delusion she'd clung to from the beginning.

Even now she had not completely admitted to herself that he was departed. That her opportunity had been lost- forever. That was why she stood stiffly erect on the edge of the canyon, her face impassive and all the emotions roiling behind her topaz eyes. She needed closure, needed to allow reality to sink into her soul.

"I loved you," she choked, and fell to her knees with the pain of admission.

But even though the lie was gone and with it her hope, she felt slightly lighter. The truth was almost intolerably bitter; but now at least she did not have to fight it. With using the past tense, Piper had admitted once and for all that he was truly dead.

His eyes rose before her own, as though he was standing in front of her. They were smiling kindly, dancing in the light. He lifted a hand to touch her face, and dissolved into the wind blowing across the terra and ruffling her cobalt hair.

He was not there to forgive her, but she knew he would want her to forgive herself. Maybe she could, eventually. It would be hard, for because of her silence he'd never known the existence of her love for him; because of her hesitance to gamble her pride, she would never know if _he_ had loved _her_.

The sun shone down compassionately, warming her dark skin. If heaven's eye was sad, at least the light coming down from her blessed a new beginning.

-

An opportunity: A moment in time that could be a happy epoch in your life, or merely a second of the day that passes by with mild regret, and disappears into obscurity. Take the chance. It is true that if you do not, you will never lose- but it is also true that you will never win.

Beware, for life is unstable and ephemeral… Harsh words- or words never spoken- will taunt you when it is too late.

Act now, for tomorrow may never come.

* * *

I did a little bit of experimentation with this. I really could not decide between Aerrow/Piper or Finn/Piper, and so I never did. I was hoping that your imagination would fill in one of them, but I think it may have come off disjointed never having defined her lost love. Tell me if you didn't notice I never named him, and if I pulled it off tell me which guy you imagined. I'm very curious as to how it turned out. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Review, please?


	5. Gambling

Summary: Pure Darklonis, but yet clean. And Snipe ends up in trouble. (Hehe.)

Genre(s): Romance... hints of others, but nothing major to speak of.

Rated: K+

Length: Oneshot

Plot? Um…this is to get myself in Darklonis mode for my other story. I doubt it has much of a plot. But it was enjoyable to write anyhow, and maybe you'll like it.

* * *

Master Cyclonis' eyes flicked over to glance at her most trusted henchman. He was standing straight and tall, as always, his red Talon uniform clung to his muscular frame quite wonderfully. She noticed this, of course, but her hands did not pause in their deft work of shaping the firebolt crystal. 

Her mind returned to the work at hand. It was a beautiful crystal, the largest firebolt ever mined in the Atmos. She knew a perfect place for it, but whether or not he deserved…

A frown turned down the corners of her mouth. How was it that her every other thought came back to Dark Ace? Certainly, he was tall, sinister, and darkly handsome, but Master Cyclonis had more important things to be thinking about. Namely, taking over the Atmos.

She finished peeling the final layer of impure rock from its surface, and shut off the laser. Then she moved to another machine and carefully directed it towards the uncovered surface of the firebolt.

Cautiously, she directed the beam onto the exterior of it, a sizzle of steam rising from it on contact. The bright, malicious red-white gleam dimmed to a dully pulsating crimson as the stable shell was created around the raw energy of the firebolt. She smiled in satisfaction as the last of it was coated, and stepped forward.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Dark Ace watching her, his scarlet eyes following her movements. A thrill erupted from her toes and rose upwards, rapidly intoxicating her and making her want to sway her hips for his benefit.

But the Master had a firm grip on herself, and she merely picked the crystal up from the mount and inspected it, turning it over in her hands. It exuded warmth even through the coating, it was so powerful.

Like someone else she knew. He crackled with power. Her thoughts switched to that first attempt with the Storm Engine. When he threw himself over her, protecting her from the falling rafter and saving her life, were his actions for his Master- or purely for her?

He was her loyal servant. He was the only one she permitted into her private quarters, the only one that she allowed to watch her while she worked in the most sacrosanct of all her inner rooms- her laboratory. She gave him her trust because there was something in those swirling ruby depths of his that assured her he deserved it.

But now she was finding that she wanted more than just a loyal servant. More than a guardian that would sacrifice his life to save hers. More than a dark, dangerous henchman whose power was hers to command.

Master Cyclonis wanted him to disarm her, to skillfully strip off her cool and collected veneer to reveal the fiery woman within.

She knew she was playing with fire having him so close to her when they were alone. When others were present, her love was a smoldering ache burning only dimly in the deepest recesses of her heart. It was easily hidden, and easily controlled. Not a soul suspected, she thought with satisfaction.

But when they were alone… Master Cyclonis sometimes wondered at herself, at her seeming addiction to gambling her control.

"Come here, Dark Ace," she ordered imperiously.

Perhaps she _wanted _to lose.

When he stopped two feet from he, invading her bubble of space, she nearly did. But she was able to reign herself in, just barely, and smile coolly at him. "What do you think?" she asked, and held the crystal out to him on her flat extended palm. Its fiery glow changed her porcelain skin to a warm, flickering copper.

"I have never seen the like," he drawled, and her breathing hitched when she saw he was looking at her. Even though it was a clichéd line.

"Really?" she inquired frostily, but her amethysts were luminous and glowing.

She'd always imagined herself to be the one initiating things. She was, after all, the Master. But Dark Ace would not permit her to be master in this.

One iron arm shot out and seized her wrist in a firm grip. It didn't hurt, but she knew she wasn't going anywhere. Master Cyclonis had her crystals if she wanted to kill him, but oddly she didn't feel the slightest inclination to reach for them.

The firebolt tumbled from her palm to the floor, and neither of them heard it clatter against the stone. Dark Ace had his eyes fixed on the milky wrist he was holding, and slowly he turned her hand over. With a finger he traced a scarcely visible blue vein up to her elbow, feather light. The skin he touched tingled and burned, and a delightful little shiver curled up her spine.

And then, even slower, he raised her wrist and brushed his lips across the translucent skin.

Then, suddenly, the door opened and Snipe entered. His whiny voice preceded his visual presence. "Master Cyclonis-"

But when he saw the pair of them he halted on the threshold. It took several seconds for the implications of this tableau to register, but when they finally sunk into his thick skill, he began to laugh. The idiot retreated, still laughing like a ten year old who saw something naughty.

Dark Ace's red crystals flicked up to look her in the eye, and saw the dark smile lurking therein. She slipped her hand away from him regretfully, and bent gracefully to retrieve the firebolt crystal from where it was dropped. She held it out to him once again, this time with a lifted eyebrow and a pointed smirk.

He bowed, knowing exactly what her thoughts were. "With pleasure," he said, and slipped it into the hilt of his sword. Then he turned, bestowing a blazing glance upon her that nearly made her flush, and stalked confidently after the unfortunate man.

While the empress in her cackled, the woman in her tingled with an electric red fire and the promise of things to come.

* * *

While this one didn't have a plot, a bunny for a Piper/Aerrow has seized hold of my mind and abducted the bunny for my multi chapter. So, there'll be another update to this fairly soon, and a wait for the multichapter. :D 

Reviews, anyone?


	6. Absence

Summary: Pirow, but there are some major problems in the relationship. Piper can't be there for Aerrow forever, not if he won't be there for her.

Genre(s): Some angst, but more family and/or drama.

Rated: Uh, T again probably.

Length: Probably a twoshot, depending on the reaction.

* * *

Piper sat in the cool dimness of their room, perched on the edge of the double cot. Her carnelian eyes were fixed firmly on the door, and they glowed and vibrated with anger. She was waiting for him- again.

But if Aerrow came home tonight, he would not slip in unnoticed beside her sleeping form so that she would awake the next morning surrounded by his warm, strong arms. There would be no more of that. And neither would she cave in the ensuing argument, as she always inevitably did. He would have to answer this time, and her love for him would not interfere with her knowledge that he did wrong and needed to change. Her lips compressed, and her dark skin was pulled down a little around her mouth because of her determination.

Suddenly fear seized hold of her. What if he did not return tonight? Would her resolve falter in another day alone? Piper let a little cry of frustration escape from her lips and into the small closed room. His often and prolonged absences were not planned; they were erratic and completely unpredictable. He could be gone anywhere from a week to two months without a word to indicate which it would be. And then he was with them again suddenly, without warning…

When he was with them she was happy, she thought, and sobbed a little at the thought. She was light and happy and assured, and he loved her and caressed her and laughed with both her and the team. His touches at night when they were alone stoked back up the flame of her passion for him that had cooled a little in his vacancy. The sweet words that he whispered in her ear just before they both drifted off to sleep, comforted her.

And during the day his confidence, his rough charm and ambition, drew her to him. He drew everyone. Aerrow's daring and recklessness were part of his charm, and the slight flavor of innocence and genuine kindheartedness he exuded bound those close to him even closer.

After a few weeks with him back, he was the captain again, and all seemed the same as when the Storm Hawks started as a carefree squadron of young teenagers. Each time, Piper inevitably began to relax in the confident knowledge that he was 'here to stay', and that she could lower the guard she tried to keep around her heart. Every time, she began to cherish thoughts of perhaps even allowing life to spring from between them, to have his child for the both of them to raise and love. Then, just before she discarded the items preventing this child, she would wake up alone.

Then, after a long day of crying, she would pick back up the life she had while he was away. The Storm Hawks looked to her when Aerrow left, both to comfort them indirectly, and to lead them as the captain of the squadron. And because she loved the Storm Hawks- Finn's incorrigible but cute idiocy which she was sure he exaggerated for everyone's entertainment, Junko's charming simplicity and honest desire to keep everyone safe and happy, and Stork's cynical but intelligent outlook on everything under the sun- she did it for them.

She had become their leader perhaps even more so than Aerrow, and she protected them like a lioness does her cubs because of both her love and her responsibility to them. This responsibility was not hard to shoulder, for Piper became efficient and easy in command. Her team knew her and respected her, and she knew each of them inside and out. She was smart and quick, and could keep an objective outlook on whatever issue came her way, whether internal or external. She protected Terra Mesa (which they'd been assigned to protect in lieu of the Interceptors a few years back) just as well, if not better than, Aerrow did when he was there.

But her duties and her team did not dull the sharp edge of the knife that was his absence. She loved being a Storm Hawk, and she did not deny the work of being the leader was satisfying and she enjoyed it, but she missed him terribly.

When Aerrow first began leaving for his mysterious assignments, Piper went through all the stages of reaction. She'd been listless and heartbroken for days, dwelling on the idea that his actions were an indirect testimony that he didn't love her as much as she loved him. That led to wondering if she was deficient, if she was somehow at fault for his lack of love. But Piper was a scientist at heart, and logic combined with her indomitable spirit forced her past that frame of mind.

Then she passed on to hope- hope that he would change. But now she had years of his part time devotion, and hope had begun to turn sour in her mouth. Slowly she began to see that her beloved Sky Knight, however wonderful he was in some areas, was blind to his own faults. He would not change on his own; something, or someone, would have to force him.

Piper had determined she would be that someone. The past times he came in at night, accidentally waking her as he crept in, her greeting for him was icy. Then they would argue, sometimes all the way into the next morning. Not once had he apologized in these argument, never admitting for a second he was wrong for leaving. But each she would begin to make headway, he showed her a long suffering and tired look from his green eyes, and her heart was softened by his tiredness and his loving touches and words. So Piper succumbed and forgave him.

Then she heard his soft, careful footsteps drawing steadily nearer. Her pulse quickened.

This time there would be no succumbing- and there would be no forgiveness.

Finally she saw his gloved hand curl around the outside of the door and cautiously pull it open. He slipped inside soundlessly, and the door shut with the softest click.

Piper could see his tall, muscular frame and his messy scarlet hair clearly, even though it was dim in their room. The only light was from the skylight over the bed Aerrow made for them, in the first year. They had spent many nights in each other's arms, staring up at the stars and at the moon together. Sorrow hit her afresh, but by now she was used to its bitter taste and did not let it show on her face.

He had not turned around yet. Her voice cut through the stillness in a harsh demand, low but charged with hostility. "What was it this time, Aerrow?"

He paused where he was, still turned towards the door. His shoulders were very still, and she knew from the way he held himself that he was struggling with his emotions internally. She could read every movement he made, every look.

And so when he did turn around she saw the green eyes she loved dull and tired and his strong face drained and paler than usual, she almost rushed into his arms to sooth him. She wanted to stroke his face until the stress lines were replaced by smile lines, and kiss him until his eyes sparkled again.

But just before she did, she remembered how her Storm Hawks had looked when he left last time. Like all their hopes had been stomped on and dragged through the dirt. Piper's heart hardened towards him, then, giving her the resolve she needed; and it crystallized as frigid as a Blizzard crystal.

She said nothing yet, formulating the many lines of reason in to an expressible idea. Aerrow took this as acceptance and smiled a little in surprise and gratitude. He then began to strip off his clothes down to his waist, and all of his armor. The latter he tossed to the side, and the former he draped neatly over a chair.

Then he came over to Piper and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her slim frame and holding her close. He breathed deeply of her scent- _God,_ how he'd missed it- and tilted her chin up.

Piper knew that he was going to kiss her, to try and thaw her heart through seduction and heartfelt words. Oh yes, he meant them. She had no doubt of that. But sweet phrases of love and devotion could no longer save him, however earnestly they were uttered.

And so she pushed him away resolutely and stood up.

His hurt and anger, combined with desperation, radiated off of him even though her back was turned. "I _need _you, Piper," he said urgently.

Piper laughed. Yes, Aerrow needed her to be there for him to return to after long hard weeks or months of fighting Cyclonians or raiders. He needed her to bolster him back up and repair his spirit with her love so that he could return to wherever the newest problem had arisen, and so that he could fight again fully charged with vitality.

"Apparently not enough," she shot back fiercely. "You need me every few weeks, and stay two months- if we're lucky!- and then go off wherever you want again doing who knows what kind of dangerous things!"

His silence only encouraged her, made her voice stronger and more cutting. "I'm your _wife, _Aerrow. You can't treat me like a whore you can come to when you please!"

Aerrow started up violently and raised his hand lightning fast as though to hit her. She didn't twitch, even, only stared calmly at him with uncompromising orange eyes.

He let his hand fall back to his side, and his emeralds were even more tired than when he came in, because of what he had almost done. "I told you I don't need this, Piper," he said wearily, and there was a catch in his voice.

Piper felt a twinge in her stomach, a guilty pang of sympathy and compassion that was not acted upon. This was his best tactic. She still loved him. After all of this, she loved him still. But she remembered.

"Have you ever thought that _I _need _you_, Aerrow?"

If she had looked at his face, she would have seen that he was struck forcibly by her words. No, he had never thought that. She was his angel, his goddess. She was strong, beautiful, self-sufficient. If any asked him about her he would have replied that he was the luckiest man in the Atmos to have a girl like her. He could entrust all he cared about to her with confidence, and when he came back she was as strong and brilliant and perfect as always. Aerrow needed to come back to her and fill himself with her love and show her his love as well, and he needed her to take care of the Storm Hawks for him, but the idea that she needed _him_ for something never occurred to him because she was always so strong.

This revolutionary idea suddenly stirred in him a vague and uncomfortable guilt that he was lacking somehow, that he was not doing what he should. Perhaps if Piper had seen this and could have stemmed the flow of honest, biting words spilling from her, he could have been swayed to change. But she was a woman who had suffered long and hard, and now she would not stop for anything even if stopping could mean victory. All of her endurance had to be paid for in full measure- she needed justice.

"And don't you _dare _say I have you," she continued, glaring at him. "Because I don't. I don't care how much you say you love me, how much you think you love me, you're not _here _enough to say that I have you! Those on Gale have you more than I do!"

Their voices were no longer low. They were yelling, shouting. Aerrow, even though he was tired, flushed and fought back as he always would. "They need me too, Piper! The people are suffering, they're _dying_!"

She winced. "I know, I know. And I help people too. But when I married you, I made you more important than anyone and everyone else. After that, _you _came first, because you were my husband!"

"You do come first!" he said desperately, angrily. Then he took her in his arms as they stood in the center of the room, willing her stiff form to bend against him again. "You're more important to me than anyone! I love you, Piper."

"More than that slut in the tavern?" she spat.

His hands dropped away like he'd been scalded by coals. "That's not fair," he said tightly. "That was once. I was half drunk, and I'd been fighting for two days straight with no sleep to rescue that family. It was only _once_!"

"How do I know that it was only once?" she demanded. Her hands were curled into fists in her anger at the remembered betrayal, and a solitary tear streaked down her cheek.

Aerrow then again would have caved to her, had he seen the tear and realized the woman he loved was crying, and because of _him_. But now his eyes did not see her as the woman he loved and swore to protect, but as an antagonist he had to beat. "You just have to trust me, Piper!" he shouted. His temper was mounting.

His was not the only one. Piper sneered at him, and shook her head scornfully. "Trust you? How can I do that, when I don't think I know you anymore?"

"No, you don't!" he agreed venomously.

She sucked in a gasp of air as that invisible barb pierced her, and struck back. "How _can_ I know you, Aerrow? You're not here enough for me to know you! You're not here for any of us!"

His back tensed, and his face closed up. "You just don't understand," he said roughly. Now his mind was set. He would no longer listen to her.

Piper saw this and knew she'd lost. "Why?" she asked brokenly, as a last ditch attempt.

"Because you're not a Sky Knight!" he yelled furiously.

Piper's golden eyes rose to meet his, and she knew what she had to do. She had lost the battle, and there was only now one feasible option left to win the war. It would be hard, and the price would be great, but she had to do something. Living like this was no longer possible, whether she could win in the end or not.

The next morning, Aerrow was the one who woke up cold.

* * *

(This was loosely inspired by witnessing real life experiences)

I know that I left Aerrow seeming like a big old jerk. I was a _little _annoyed with how almost everyone describes him as the epitome of near perfection, and that a Pierrow, once born, would just be a sweet little 'happily ever after.' Don't get me wrong! I love Aerrow; I'm just saying he can't be perfect. Next chapter he should be better.

Review please! I would love to know what you thought of it.


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